Myungsoo blinks rapidly once, twice, and then again as he struggles to make sense of the small black letters amid the large white expanse of the call sheet currently swimming in his vision. He struggles to reorient himself to this new reality, still not fully understanding how his decision to take an intro to filmmaking class at the start of the semester has led to this.

Auditioning for a student film had been an easy way to satisfy his curiosity and temporarily relieve his boredom. Myungsoo had been curious about the screenplays that the university’s film majors had written, and he vividly remembers auditioning for the part of the loner in one of the student films. That, he can easily understand.

But the fact that Myungsoo actually got the part of the loner?

He was absolutely sure when he had walked out of that audition that he wouldn’t get the part. Myungsoo doesn’t understand how his rendition of the lines, which he’d done in his normal speaking voice and with his natural understated mannerisms, could possibly be what the filmmaker wanted. If there’s one thing that Myungsoo had reassured himself multiple times, it’s that playing a loner on film and actually being a loner in real life are completely different.

And yet when his vision clears and he looks again at the call sheet, he very clearly sees his own name, KIM MYUNGSOO, next to a dialogue box that reads STARRING ROLE.

There is only one person whose name is listed above his on the call sheet, the only other person in this production with a starring role. It goes to Nam Woohyun, a person Myungsoo instantly remembers from the title page of the screenplay he had read prior to his audition: Like in the Movies by Nam Woohyun.

The entire audition process had taken place in front of a camera, with no one but the camera operator present in the audition space as Myungsoo had read his lines. As this had been the first audition process that he had ever taken part in, Myungsoo had been relieved to find that he was not forced to audition in front of an audience, not knowing how he could have possibly managed to get through the script in front of any fellow auditioners or the filmmakers themselves.

But all that Myungsoo can think of as he continues to stare at his own name on the call sheet is how utterly regretful this Nam Woohyun is going to be when he realizes that an awkward math major has been cast for one of the starring roles in his screenplay.

***

When Myungsoo arrives at the auditorium at 8:00 a.m. on the following Tuesday, he expects to be alone. Wanting to ease himself into the rehearsal process as comfortably as possible, Myungsoo has come an hour early to give himself time to take in everything about the rehearsal space before the official call time.

He stands by the door of the auditorium, taking in the dramatic darkness casting sinuous shadows across the many rows of vacant seats lining the aisles. Silver whorls of dust motes ebb and flow in the thin sliver of light from the open doorway behind him, only to vanish when Myungsoo allows the door to swing all the way shut.

Myungsoo can’t help but find this setting familiarー surprisingly and almost painfully familiar. He thinks of every teen movie he’s ever watched, every bad high school movie he’s ever streamed, and finds it hard not to imagine himself as the nervous teen protagonist who somehow miraculously manages to procure a leading role in the school play. Of course, this situation is a little more nuanced than that. Myungsoo is neither b with excitement nor breaking out in song at the opportunity to land a starring role, which in a movie would inevitably lead him to find his calling in theater and simultaneously getting the girl.

But to Myungsoo, who hardly even feels like the protagonist of his own life, the reality that he will be playing the starring role in a film, even a student film, is both strangely surreal and wonderful at the same time.

He takes a moment to admire the large, prominent stage positioned at the front of the auditorium, its glossy wooden floor shining beautifully even under the absence of stage lights. Myungsoo begins to carefully descend the steps to the front of the auditorium, admiring how the plush red fabric lining the stairs is vivid even in the dark, only to be interrupted by the sound of a voice calling out to him from the front row.

“Ah, Myungsoo-ssiー You’re here!”

Myungsoo pauses halfway to the stage, stopping short between two steps and barely keeping himself from toppling over. The thought that there is another person in the theater who will prevent Myungsoo from exploring the auditorium alone is cause for concern. And yet, Myungsoo can’t help but think that the appearance of a stranger in the otherwise empty, dark rehearsal space has a beautifully movie-like quality to it.

Myungsoo can’t make out any details about the man sitting in the front row, only sees a dark silhouette of his head and shoulders. The man rises from his seat and makes his way to the lighting control panel located to the left of the stage, casting strange, sinuous shadows across the already dark walls of the auditorium as he moves. Myungsoo can hear him fiddling with the buttons and knobs on the panel before he hears an unnervingly loud click, followed by the sudden introduction of several blindingly bright lights illuminating the stage and lending a soft, buttery glow to the rest of the auditorium. He stares at the brilliantly illuminated stage in awe, only noticing the man’s rapid approach when the other is already positioned several feet away from him.

“Nam Woohyun,” the man introduces brightly, extending his hand in front of him as he gives Myungsoo a bright grin. “And you’re my starring role, Kim Myungsoo.”

Myungsoo takes a few quick, rapid breaths as he reaches his hand out to take Woohyun’s, grounded only by the feeling of the man’s strong, warm hand clasping his. The good-natured openness of